10 ottobre, 2006

One by One

I line you up all neatly in a row, polish you, adjust you, even imagine you were real. I secretly hope you'll talk back to me. I hope that the effort I put into you will somehow come back to me. Silence suffocates the room and I start to panic. I go outside for some air, and come back, to see if things are back to normal. No, I still think you're going to talk to me, but you just stare back that icy inanimate stare. You look real. You even feel real - except when I touch you. That's when I realise my mistake. I've been raising fakes. I raised you to only look real, but not so you can answer me, or touch me, or call me. One by one, just as I raised you,One by one, you fall down...

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